


Lachesism

by zach_stone



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Fix-It, Josh lives AU, Lots of internal monologue, Post-Canon, Sort of angsty???, With a happyish ending, some physical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 10:25:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5824945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zach_stone/pseuds/zach_stone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>lachesism</b>: (noun) the desire to be struck by disaster</p><p>A Josh Washington character study/fix-it fic/Josh learning how to not ruin his own life all rolled into one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lachesism

**Author's Note:**

> alright, this was honestly just meant to be a short little character study thing, and then like most things i write, it got away from me, so here's.... this. 
> 
> it's gone through like 4 different drafts so honestly i hope it's enjoyable and makes sense. i know the fix-it fic has been done to death already at this point but you know what, that ain't stopping me. 
> 
> no explicit romantic relationships in this one, gang. i know, shocking. 
> 
> Uh let's see, WARNINGS: physical violence/injuries, vaguely referenced suicidal thoughts, depression/anxiety/dissociation.... i think that's it.

 

Josh Washington was no stranger to cold. The stark, clinical cold of hospitals; the indifferent cold of therapist’s waiting rooms. He’d grown up in the cold, spending half his life on a mountain thick with snow and whistling winds that chilled him through his clothes. And one night, his sisters vanished and a new cold settled under his skin, seeping into his bones and clenching tight around his heart. He could never really shake it, the feeling of ice filling up the hollowness inside him. Somehow, it made him feel even emptier. The ice grew until Josh was cold, too — until finally he was numb, and then he felt nothing at all.

Of course, people aren’t meant to be numb. And so people were constantly poking and prodding at him, trying to get him back to “normal.” He wanted say, petulant and stubborn as ever, “What, _exactly,_ is normal for me?” Would they rather he threw fits and tantrums, that he pulled reckless stunts and drank too much and got in fights? The alternative to being numb was being an absolute prick. Josh figured if he was numb, he didn’t have to feel the all-encompassing weight of his guilt and grief, and those around him didn’t have to deal with him being insufferable. Everybody wins.

Anyway, all the poking and prodding in the world couldn’t prevent Josh from orchestrating a truly twisted prank, creating an unintended domino effect that left him shivering and bloody and wet in a dank corner of the mines that smelled like death and rust, hopelessly alone.

Until he wasn’t.

He floated in a space somewhere between consciousness and dream, a daze-like state as voices around him shouted and argued, hands gripping his shoulders and the whir of helicopter blades loud in his ears. In fact, Josh stayed in that state for quite some time; he started to lose track of time altogether. He wondered idly if maybe he’d died at some point, and this was some kind of limbo or purgatory or something. But no, he thought, if he was dead, he’d be in hell for sure. He’d done enough questionable shit to earn at least a little hellfire and damnation.

When he came back to himself, it was like pulling his head out of an icy bucket of water. The first thing he felt was an ache, both inside and out. Oh, he hadn’t missed that sensation. Soon after, he was sent home, back at his parents’ house, safely medicated and away from the snow and the monsters. He had faint recollections of an extended hospital stay, but it blended together with the dozens of other hospital stays he’d had in his life. For that much, he was grateful. The less he remembered from that hellish night and all that had followed, the better. Already, too many of the events flooded back to him, their weight pressing in on him from every side.

So he resigned to spend his time sunk in other memories instead. And why not? He could hardly keep track of current time anyway. He was mostly sequestered to his room these days. After he’d come home from the hospital and felt somewhat lucid again, his parents had wanted to send him to a therapist. He was absolutely having none of that, though. He refused, point-blank, and since he was a legal adult and they really couldn’t force him to do anything, they gave in and left him to his solitude. He wasn’t quite sure how long ago that had been, to be perfectly honest. Ah, well — time was a man-made concept, so who really gave a shit? The answer to that was his parents, apparently. They pretended to be understanding of his decision to become a recluse, but he’d heard his dad muttering about “wasted potential” or something. Josh thought he might’ve blown his chances at “potential” when he used his many talents to craft a series of events so horrific they put some of his father’s own slasher films to shame. Sorry, pops.

Josh buried himself in the past, because it felt safe and comfortable, and he selfishly wanted safety and comfort. He often ran his thumb absently over his wrist, missing the bracelet that used to be there. Beth had gotten it for him, had gotten one for each of the Washington siblings, back when Josh was 16. He’d teased her about it at first, because it was so unusually sentimental of her.

“Aww,” he’d said, unwrapping the little box she’d given him and revealing the bracelet. “Is this a _friendship_ bracelet?”

“Don’t be a jerk,” Beth warned, cheeks pinking. Beside her, Hannah was beaming, examining her own bracelet.

“Beth! This is so sweet!” Hannah said. She pecked her sister on the cheek. “You _do_ care.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Beth said indignantly. “I care all the time!”

“Yeah, but usually I’m the only sappy one around here,” Hannah said. She held out her wrist. “Here, put it on me!”

While Beth was fastening the bracelet on Hannah’s wrist, Josh was plotting something absolutely perfect for Christmas that year. After they’d all gone to their separate bedrooms that night, he’d crept to Beth’s room and knocked on the door softly. She opened it and squinted suspiciously up at him.

“Whaddya want?” she said. He shushed her and ushered her inside, stepping in as well and closing the door behind him. Beth, looking sleepy and grouchy in her pajamas, crossed her arms. “You’ve got that look on your face.”

“What look?” he said.

“The one that means you’re going to try to rope me into some stupid scheme,” she said wearily. “What is it this time, big bro?”

He laughed. “Relax, it’s nothing bad. This time. I was thinking, since Hannah’s apparently the ‘sappy one’ in the family, we should totally out-do her in sentiment with our Christmas gifts this year. I’m talking personalized, engraved gifts. Real mushy shit. She’ll love it. _And_ we will successfully steal the title from her.”

“You just want to be the best,” Beth said, snorting. “Not everything’s a competition, you know.”

“Spoken like a true defeatist,” Josh said.

Beth had relented, as she always did in the end, because if there was one thing to be said about the Washingtons, it was that they would do pretty much anything for each other. “Yeah, okay, it would be super cute.” She glanced at his wrist and noticed the bracelet. “Hey, you’re still wearing it.”

“Well duh,” he said. “Our sibling bond of friendship doesn’t end just because it’s time for bed.”

She laughed, and then twisted her own bracelet around on her wrist. There was a hesitance in her voice when she spoke next, something rarely heard from her. “So you like it, right? For real?”

“Oh my God, of course I like it,” he said. He put his hands on her shoulders. “Seriously, sis. It’s a very sweet idea.”

“Well good,” she said, shrugging out of his grip and punching his arm playfully. “Cuz you’ve gotta wear it forever now. No taking it off.”

“I’ll wear it to my grave,” he’d said solemnly.

 _Well_ , Josh thought, staring at his ceiling and digging his nails into the place where the bracelet would’ve been, _it should’ve been my grave._ Somewhere along the line, when he was changing from Josh to Masked Killer, he’d taken the bracelet off to hide his identity. But he’d kept it in his pocket, just to be safe. He thought it probably fell out at some point in the mines. Some jag-toothed bastard probably had it now. Fuck those guys.

 

At first, no one came to visit Josh post-Blackwood, but that was expected. It was what he deserved, he thought. And what they deserved, too; they deserved a lifetime devoid of Josh Washington. But some people just don’t know what’s good for them, a point made obvious when one day when Chris showed up at his door. Mrs. Washington let him in, even though Josh had made it pretty fucking clear that he wished to remain in self-inflicted solitude for the rest of his miserable life. Moms are such traitors.

So now Chris was sitting on Josh’s bed, and they were making eye contact, but Josh’s gaze was glazed over, unfocused. Chris shifted, uncertainty plain on his face. He’d clearly come here without a plan. Typical.

Clearing his throat, Chris tried, “How, um, how are you?”

Josh chuckled softly, pondering Chris’s question. “Grand,” he said finally. “Fucking spectacular, bro.”

“Huh.” Chris shifted again, scrubbing the back of his head.

Josh watched him squirm, and shoved down the twisty feelings of guilt that curled in the bottom of his stomach. He couldn’t deal with them right now.

“So….” Chris dragged out the word. “Is it okay that I’m here? Like, I know your mom let me in and everything, but I mean, is it cool? That I came?”

“Yeah, whatever, man,” Josh said, shrugging slightly. “I don’t really care.”

This seemed to frustrate Chris. He frowned. “What’s going on with you? Do you… remember what happened? On the mountain?”

Josh’s lip curled. Did he _remember_? “Which part? The part where I faked my own brutal death? Or how I chased our friend around and drugged her? Or maybe when I knocked you out and chained you to a table and made you think you’d have to blow your own brains out?”

“Josh…”

“Oh, and what about how my family’s mountain is infested with cannibalistic monster people and my little trip almost got all our friends horrifically murdered? Is that what you’re asking me to remember, Chris?” Josh’s voice was hard and sharp. Chris cringed away from him, but when he spoke again, he was still firm, holding his ground.

“Yeah, it is what I’m asking. Because you’re acting pretty goddamn blasé, and it’s fucking weird. You have any idea what you _did_ to us?”

“Give me a _break_. Did you come all this way just to give me a fucking lecture? Because I’ve had just about enough of those. You ain’t breaking new ground, Cochise.”

“Don’t call me that,” Chris said, and okay, that stung. Josh’s mouth snapped shut, and he exhaled heavily through his nose. Chris’s eyes were downcast. After a moment, he said, “I’m not lecturing you. I’m honestly asking. Do you know what you did to us? Really?”

“Finally got your pussy ass a girlfriend, that’s what,” Josh muttered. Chris laughed, a hollow, broken sound. Josh could relate. He felt all kinds of hollow and broken.

“Ash and I aren’t together, bro,” Chris said. Josh stared at him.

“What the hell? What’re you talking about?”

“We… after we got off the mountain, we talked about it. It wasn’t gonna happen, not after all that.” He hunched his shoulders, seeming to become fascinated with his hands in his lap.

Josh was both confused and angered by this information. He’d _heard_ Chris choose to save Ashley back in the shed, and he’d watched as Chris pressed the gun against his own jaw without a second thought. And now he was going to just not date her? “Are you fucking me? After… after all that work I did? Dude, I was trying to set you up! I gave you the perfect hero scenarios!” he said.

Chris shook his head. “Bro, you seriously miscalculated. I mean, Jesus. You made me think I’d _killed_ you. You’re my best fucking friend. You know what that does to a guy? The whole night, I kept thinking… what if I’d chosen you instead? I didn’t want Ash to die either, but… fuck, I started resenting her a little bit. For being alive, when you weren’t.” He swallowed, the sound loud and thick. “And then with that fucking gun… I almost shot her, Josh. I mean, the thought was there for just a second, but still.” He shivered. “That shit doesn’t bring people together. It tears them apart.”

Shock and shame hit Josh in equal measure. Shit. This is why he stayed hidden away in his room, hidden away in better memories. The weight of what he’d done once more threatened to crush him, and he wanted to tear his insides out.

“Why are you here, Chris? What do you want from me?” he said finally.

“Are you — are you serious? Jesus Christ, Josh! Don’t you feel, I don’t know, a little remorse? Can’t you just fucking apologize?” Chris’s voice was getting high-pitched in the way it always did when he was panicky or upset. Josh wished he could make himself so small he’d become invisible.

He did want to apologize. He knew he should. The words were right there, two very simple words lodged in the back of his throat: _I’m sorry._ But he couldn’t force them out, couldn’t make himself say them. Not to Chris, not to anyone. He _was_ sorry. But he had to know that they were all sorry, too. Otherwise all of this, all of it would be for nothing.

Chris clearly picked up from his silence that no, he wasn’t going to fucking apologize. Scowling, he stood up. Josh watched him, a detached expression returning to his face. When Chris said, “I’m leaving now,” Josh made no move to stop him.

Chris walked out the door. Josh felt his absence like a physical pain, breaking apart the parts of himself that had frozen solid.

 

* * *

 

Complex. It was a word that one of Josh’s earliest therapists had used to describe him in her final evaluation; “Joshua is a very complex child.” Looking back on it now, Josh thought that was probably a professional way of saying “I don’t know what the hell’s going on with your weird kid.” But the word stuck with him all throughout adolescence, good ol’ Complex Joshua making everything harder for himself than it needed to be. God, sometimes he wished he could just be simple. Like Hannah — she’d been such a prime example of sweet simplicity. You never had to wonder what was going on her head. Hannah wore her heart on her sleeve; she was a naive, hopeless romantic, and she didn’t have a mean bone in her body. Well, at least not until her bones stretched and morphed her into a flesh-hungry demon.

But like most things, Josh tried not to think about that.

Instead, he thought about the Christmas that followed Beth’s bracelet present. Josh and his sister had conspired to get Hannah some truly sentimental gifts. He was pretty sure this was the nicest scheme he’d ever come up with. He’d gotten Hannah a music box, one that was custom engraved with “ _Merry Christmas 2010, sis. Love, Josh._ ” It even played _Frere Jacques,_ a song that Hannah and Beth used to sing to Josh when he was a kid and first started getting really bad nightmares. Beth, for her gift, had gotten Hannah a locket with a picture of the two of them in it. It said “ _To Hannah, with love_.”

Predictably, Hannah was overcome with emotion at the sight of the gifts. “Oh my _gosh_ , you guys! I don’t even know what to say…”

“You could say we out-sentimentaled you,” Josh offered. Beth elbowed him hard in the ribs.

“That’s not even a word,” she scolded. “You’re welcome, Han.”

“I love you guys so much,” Hannah had said, flinging her arms around them and nearly knocking them to the ground. She had treasured the gifts, updating the photo in her locket every couple of years and listening to the music box nearly every night before bed.

Josh wished the sound of that song didn’t make him want to scream now. What had once been so comforting to him, now just filled him with overwhelming terror. All because of his brain’s incessant need to torment him. Oh, well — in so many ways, he probably deserved it.

 

Another indeterminate amount of time passed before another one of his friends showed up at his door. This time, it was Matt. Josh was surprised to see him; the two of them had never been close, and after his less than successful encounter with Chris, Josh had kind of assumed that everyone would leave him to rot in peace. But Matt was here, wearing a shiny new letter jacket and an all-too-earnest smile. Josh couldn’t even begin to attempt to smile back. He settled for what he hoped was a friendly nod.

“Hey man! Nice to see you,” Matt said. He didn’t hug him, but he did pat him on the shoulder. It was a very sincere pat. Matt was too kind.

“Yeah,” Josh said with much less enthusiasm. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty okay,” Matt said. They sat down on Josh’s bed. He should really invest in some chairs if these visits were going to continue. “Glad to see you all in one piece.”

“Debatably,” Josh muttered. Matt’s smile faltered.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said. An awkward silence followed. Josh was getting just so good at causing those. If only that were a marketable skill.

“I didn’t expect you to come visit me,” Josh said finally.

“Thought you might like to see a friendly face,” Matt said lightly. Ah. Word had likely gotten around about how things had gone with Chris. Great, just great. The last thing he wanted was people visiting him out of pity. He didn’t deserve pity. “I promise I won’t interrogate you about your motives or whatever,” Matt added. Bingo. Hit the nail on the head.

“Matt…” Josh sighed. “Listen, dude, your heart’s in the right place, but I’m _really_ not the one who needs sympathy here.”

“If you say so,” Matt said, shrugging.

Speaking of simple, Matt was another perfect example. Simple and pure, that was Matt. Josh wondered idly why someone so nice was friends with a bunch of assholes. Then he remembered how Matt had held the camera and filmed Hannah’s humiliation, and his stomach clenched. Nobody’s perfect, he supposed.

“So hey,” Matt said, shaking Josh out of his increasingly morose thoughts. “When are you allowed to rejoin the outside world?”

“Huh? Oh,” Josh said, looking around his gloomy bedroom. “Uh, I don’t know exactly. I mean, I’m not under house arrest or anything. I can do whatever I want.”

“Oh,” Matt said. He frowned. “Then why are you still holed up in here?”

It was a fair question; why _was_ he here? After a moment, Josh said, “I guess I feel like I should stay here, alone.” He folded his hands in his lap. “This is kind of my penance or whatever.”

Matt nodded thoughtfully. “Fair enough, dude. Just don’t be too hard on yourself, you know?”

Josh snorted. “Matt, I almost got you killed. I almost got everyone we know killed.”

“Well, I guess,” Matt said. “But it’s not like you did it on purpose.”

“I did a lot of shitty things on purpose up there,” Josh said.

“Yeah,” Matt said. He hesitated, and then said, “Why did you do it all, anyway? I mean, I guess I get it; we pranked your sister, you prank us. But what did you want to get out of it?”

Damn, Matt was really coming at him with the hard-hitting questions. Josh had no idea why he felt more inclined to answer Matt than he had Chris. Maybe because he owed Chris so much more, had hurt Chris so much more. Matt was an easier person to face. “Uh, I dunno. A lot of things. Revenge. Satisfaction. Easing my conscience, maybe?” He thought about Chris’s demand for an apology. “I wanted to know you were sorry. To _make_ you sorry.”

Matt hummed. Josh was honestly surprised he hadn’t horrified the guy yet; Matt was one patient dude. “That’s fair,” Matt said.

“Is it?” Josh asked, and he meant it. He’d been wrestling with the idea of fairness for months and months. Was it fair to torment his friends for something they’d done by accident? The condescending voice in his head, the one that sounded like Dr. Hill, would say _definitely no_ . But the other voices, the ones that were more sinister and slimy and cold, always ushered him forward with _yes yes yes. They hurt you, you hurt them._

“Sure,” Matt said, shrugging slightly. “I mean, maybe you went a little overboard, but it makes sense. We… we took something from you, Josh. And that was fucked up. You just wanted us to feel what you felt.” He straightened his back and looked Josh right in the eye. “I _am_ sorry. I’m so sorry for what happened to Hannah and Beth. It’s not right, and it never will be. But I am sorry.”

Josh could’ve cried. He felt like the ice inside of him was chipping away. If only he’d had this little talk with Matt _before_ Chris came to visit, then maybe he wouldn’t have been so cold and Chris wouldn’t hate his guts now. Win some, lose some. Though in Josh’s case it was more like lose ‘em all.

“Thanks, Matt,” he said when he trusted his voice not to crack. “I’m… I’m sorry I kind of terrorized you.”

“It’s okay,” Matt said. “You were just trying to find some peace.”

“Not sure that’s even possible for me,” Josh said. “I’m not sure I deserve it, either.”

“Can I give you some advice?” Matt asked.

Josh spread his hands. “I’m all ears, bud.”

“Cut yourself some slack once in a while,” Matt said. Josh laughed, and it felt like the most genuine thing he’d experienced in a long time.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. When they stood up to say goodbye, Josh even let Matt hug him. It was the least he could do.

 

* * *

 

Anger is so much easier to feel than grief. Josh realized this when he found himself raging with fury sometime after Hannah and Beth had been gone long enough that everyone accepted they were probably dead. He was still numb and cold inside most of the time, but sometimes he would be overcome with anger, and it pulsed hot and fiery inside him. He was angry at Hannah and Beth, angry at his sisters for leaving him alone. Didn’t they know they were the best part of him? The best part of their whole stupid family? And now they had gone and vanished and fucked everything up. Josh was furious.

But his anger soon shifted targets, because he could never stay mad at his sisters. The anger was directed at his friends, those bastards who had caused all of this. Filled with a righteous call of vengeance, Josh had begun planning his prank during fits of hot rage. And all the while, simmering in the back of his mind, the most pointed anger of all lay in wait. It whispered in his ears, a reminder so subtle he almost didn’t notice it; but there it was, feeding his brain: _It’s your fault, Josh. Your fault. All your fault._

Maybe Matt was right, and Josh should cut himself some slack. Maybe if he’d heeded such advice months ago, he wouldn’t have gone through with his revenge scheme in the first place. Retrospect is a hell of a thing.

Josh left his room at some point (he still hadn’t grasped the concept of linear time again), and he found his mother in the kitchen, making a cup of tea. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw him. He wondered how ghoulish he looked at this point. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked in a mirror.

“Josh, honey, you startled me,” she said. “I was just making some tea, do you want some?”

“Sure,” he said. He sat down at one of the barstools in the kitchen. His mom smiled faintly at him before turning back to her tea-making. Her smile never reached her eyes these days. She was still doing better than Josh, though — his smile didn’t even reach his mouth.

His mom set the mug of tea in front of him and leaned against the counter on her elbows, appraising him from over the rim of her own cup. “It’s nice to see you out of your room,” she said.

“Gotta emerge from the cave sometime,” he muttered. He took a sip of the tea, wincing when it burned his tongue. His mom nodded.

“It was nice to see your friend Matt visit the other day, too,” she said. “Have you heard anything from Chris lately?”

He hummed anxiously, already regretting his attempt at being a semi-functional human. “Nope. Not since… whenever it was that he came over.”

She seemed to understand. She’d probably seen Chris storming out of the house. Melinda Washington was used to her only son fucking things up. She’d seen just how bad the aftermath could get. Josh rested his head in his hands. His mother deserved so much better than being stuck with him.

His mom drank her tea in silence, and Josh let his get cold. When she was done, Melinda rinsed her cup in the sink and made to leave the kitchen. Josh lifted his head.

“Mom?” he said. She paused, turning around.

“Yes, sweetheart?” she said.

He exhaled, long and slow. Why was it so hard for him to say the things he really needed to say? Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, he said, “I just wanted to tell you…. um, I’m sorry.”

She frowned slightly. “Sorry for what?”

Oh, mom. That was a question with an answer a mile long. Josh settled for the key reasons. “For being such a fuckup. For being the one who survived, instead of them.”

He’d wanted to say this for a long time, for over a year now. He thought apologizing would make him feel better, at least marginally, but it didn’t. Instead he just felt like he was about to start crying. Sure enough, tears prickled against his eyelids. Damn it. He didn’t want to cry in front of his mom. How lame would _that_ be.

For her part, Melinda rushed over to him and put her arms around him. He couldn’t see her face, but her voice sounded thick with emotion. “Oh, Josh…” she murmured. “Please, don’t you ever apologize for being here. For being alive.”

“It should’ve been me who disappeared instead,” he said. Fuck, he was really crying now. When his mom spoke again, it sounded like she was, too. What a mess.

“Honey, no,” she said. “It shouldn’t have been _anyone_ . I wish every day that your sisters were still here. God, I would give anything…” She paused to compose herself. “Except you. Josh, I would never, _ever_ trade your life away, not for anything. Do you know how special you are to me?”

Josh couldn’t even respond at this point, so he wept while his mother held him.

“I love you so much, Joshua,” Melinda continued. “And I am so grateful that we didn’t lose you, too.” She kissed the side of his head and he snuffled for a moment.

“Love you too,” he finally managed. She held him for a few more minutes, or maybe hours, Josh wasn’t really sure. When she let go, though, he’d stopped crying. She left him to himself in the kitchen, and he drank his cold tea and thought about being alive. Maybe it wasn’t some sort of punishment that he had survived, after all.

“Hey stranger,” said a voice behind him, and Josh let out a very undignified squeak. He turned around to see Sam, holding her hands up non-threateningly.

“Sammy,” he said, when he’d regained composure. “Christ, what’re you doing here?”

“Your mom let me in,” she said. “She told me you were crying.”

Josh groaned. “She did not.” His mother was once again proving traitorous. She was lucky he loved her or whatever.

Sam pulled out the stool next to him and sat down. She drummed her hands on her knees. Josh realized he hadn’t seen her, not really, since they’d been on the mountain. His heart clenched painfully in his chest at the thought. Last time they’d interacted, at least that he had clear memory of, she’d been running for her life, mostly naked, and Josh had been lumbering after her in a mask. He knew there were other things that had happened after, but the line between hallucination and reality sort of melted away after that.

What fun memories.

“Sorry I haven’t come by earlier,” Sam said. Josh was appalled that _she_ felt the need to apologize to _him_ for that.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you came at all,” he said. “Seriously, Sam, you have literally no obligation to have anything to do with me. I’m well aware of that.”

She frowned. “I know, asshole. I’m coming here because I want to.”

“Then you’re one wacky gal, Sammy,” he said. She smacked his arm. What the fresh hell was going on? This is what he got for leaving his room-slash-hovel.

“Shut the hell up, Josh,” she said, glowering at him. He shrunk from her gaze.

“This is not a pleasant visit,” he said. Her expression softened slightly.

“Sorry,” she said.

“Again with the apologizing,” he said. “You have no reason to apologize to me.”

“I kinda do, though,” she said. “Listen, Josh… I talked to Matt the other day, and he told me what you said. About why you did the prank.” She said each word carefully, like she’d planned out a script beforehand. She probably had. Sam was always prepared.

“And?” Josh said nervously.

“And… I kinda get it,” she said. “I mean, it was so fucked up, Josh, what you did. But… there were days when I wanted to make everyone sorry, too. I was so mad at them for pulling that stupid prank on Hannah, but I was even more mad at myself for not being fast enough to stop it.”

“At least you _tried_ to stop it,” Josh said. “You coulda been passed out drunk like me. I didn’t do shit to help.”

“Still,” Sam said. “What I’m saying is, I was hurting too, Josh. After everything that happened. And I can’t exactly blame you for wanting revenge. I spent all that time with you, all those months after the twins disappeared, and I never… I never once saw the way you were hurting, not really.”

“That’s because I didn’t want you to see it,” he said earnestly. “It’s not your fault.”

“I want to apologize,” Sam said. “I need to apologize for what happened. For not being able to save them. For not being able to be there for you in the way you needed. For leaving you behind in the mines.” She rubbed her eyes tiredly. Josh let her words settle over him. As much as he’d hungered for apologies from the others, for them to take the fucking blame already, this didn’t feel very satisfying. His anger had fizzled out, and now he just felt small and sad. He reached out to tug Sam’s hands from her face and gave her a weak smile.

“I… I don’t blame you for any of that, Sam. So please don’t blame yourself. Seriously. You don’t wanna end up like me.” He laughed ruefully, and then took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for what I did to you. I thought if I punished you, it would make me feel better. And I thought… maybe, if I hurt you and Chris, then you would hate me, and then it would make it easier for me to just… disappear.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked softly.

“I mean, a part of me never really planned to leave Blackwood that night,” he said. “I kind of hoped I’d just, you know, die. And so I guess I wanted to make it easier on you guys. But I was being selfish. I’m sorry, Sam.”

She nodded, eyes glassy. “Oh, Josh.” A shaky laugh bubbled up, and she said, “You’re one wacky guy, you know that?”

“So I’ve heard,” he said. He squeezed her hands once and then let go. “Boy, you sure don’t waste time getting to the emotional heart-to-hearts, do ya?”

“No use beating around the bush,” she said, shrugging. “You know, I think Chris would really benefit from hearing all that, too.”

“Yeah,” Josh said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe you can pass along the message.”

“Or you could just tell him yourself,” Sam said pointedly.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure he hates me, so no,” he replied. Sam looked confused.

“What do you mean, he hates you? Why do you think that?”

“Are you not up to speed with our most recent interaction? I figured everyone knew about that,” Josh said.

“Oh my god, Josh. Chris doesn’t hate you. He actually feels really bad about how he reacted, he’s just been too afraid to come back over. I think he thinks _you_ hate him,” Sam said. Josh gaped at her.

“Are you fucking — oh my god.” He groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “What a fucking mess.”

“Talk to him,” Sam insisted. “It’ll be good for you. For _both_ of you.”

Josh whined. “Sammy, I don’t think you understand how hard it was for me to say all of that to you. I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to do it again.”

She sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll tell him what you told me. But you still need to talk to him at some point.” She aimed a threatening finger in his face. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” he said glumly. He was not confident that Chris would want to talk to him, even after Sam relayed Josh’s apology. Still, if it would make Sam happy to say he’d try, he figured he owed her that much.

 

* * *

 

Josh Washington was a chickenshit. This was not something that people knew right away, because he never flinched at horror movies and was the king of reckless ideas. But that was the thing; he wasn’t afraid of gruesome slasher killers or falling off the top of the tallest tree in the park, because he wasn’t too intimidated by death. Death is a lot less scary when you don’t really place much value on your own life. But Josh was terrified of other things, things that were sneakier and more insidious. He was afraid of being alone, truly alone; abandoned and unwanted and trapped. It was part of why his self-inflicted punishment was hiding away in his room. Though even that wasn’t as terrifying as it could’ve been, because he still saw his parents every day. He wasn’t _really_ alone — not like he’d been in the mines. Not like he’d intended to be after he’d driven away everyone who may have possibly cared about him with a horrible prank.

But even self-inflicted punishment could only go on for so long before Josh felt like he was going to crawl right out of his own skin. It was a late night, and he was sick of staring at the ceiling and he sure as hell wasn’t going to fall asleep any time soon, so he rolled out of bed and put on his shoes and climbed out his bedroom window. Sneaking out came easily to him; he’d done it countless times over the years, often with a begrudging Beth and Hannah in tow, or an overeager Chris if he happened to be spending the night. As such, it wasn’t hard at all for Josh to find a random college party that didn’t care if he showed up and drank their shitty beer.

The party was loud, all flashing lights and thudding bass and thrashing limbs. Josh pressed himself up against a wall and drank beer after beer until he felt loose and floaty. It was like that half-awake, half-dreaming state he’d been in before, right after they’d gotten off the mountain. Only this one came with the added bonus of booze. Win-win, right?

He let himself be grinded on by strangers and it was all very well and good until something snapped in him and suddenly he was in a cold sweat and his breathing wasn’t coming to him right. He was freaking the _fuck_ out and he needed to get out of here, like, now. “Get the fuck off me,” he said loudly to the girl who had just draped herself over him. She didn’t seem intent on moving, though, so Josh shoved her. And yeah, maybe he shoved her a little too hard, but he was spiraling here. As Josh’s luck would have it, the girl he shoved was the girlfriend of a very big, very angry drunk dude. The guy loomed over Josh with a heavy scowl.

“You fuckin’ touching my girlfriend, bro?” he said. Spit landed on Josh’s face. Oh, Christ. He was not in the mood for this shit.

“Not even if she paid me, asshole,” Josh retorted, eyes scanning for a path to the door. The dude slammed his hand against the wall beside Josh’s head. Fuck.

Josh had gotten his ass kicked before, so this was nothing new. As he stumbled out of the house, clutching his side and bleeding profusely from his lip, he was almost irritated by how underwhelming this whole situation was. Josh Washington, king of fucking up. He dropped onto the curb, wincing at the sharp ache in his ribs. His face felt like someone had taken it apart very roughly and then shoved it back together all wrong. Ugh. He really didn’t want to walk home looking like this. Usually when this sort of thing happened, he’d just call someone to pick him up. But who the hell would he call? Sam? No, he didn’t want to burden her with his dumb shit right now; anyway, she’d just lecture him. Chris? Ha, fat chance. They still hadn’t reconciled, and Josh didn’t think that asking for a ride with a busted face was the best way to initiate contact. Almost instinctively, his mind went to Beth. He could always count on Beth to get him out of a jam. For a split second, he was reaching for his phone to call her. But then reality smacked him upside the head, and it hurt even more than that asshole’s fists had.

Tears sprung unbidden into Josh’s eyes, and now he was crying on some stranger’s curb like a real chump. Damn it. Why’d his sister have to be fucking dead? Why was Josh out here in the middle of the night? The beer sat sour and heavy in his stomach. He wondered if he’d end up puking on this rando’s lawn. That would _really_ complete the night.

“Josh? Is that you?”

He looked up, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Emily was standing over him, staring down with her mouth pulled into a tight frown. She was wearing a pretty black dress and heels. He felt about ten times more hideous than before just looking at her. “Hey, Em,” he said sheepishly.

Her frown deepened. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Oh, this? This is nothin’,” Josh said, gesturing to his face. “I’ve had worse.”

Emily snorted. “I know.” She knelt down, examining his face. “You look like shit. Why are you even here? Matt told me you were like, locking yourself up in your room forever or something.”

“Yeah, well, I thought I’d find new and creative ways to punish myself,” Josh said. He cracked a smile, and felt his lip split just a little more. He hissed in pain, cupping his mouth. Emily shook her head.

“You’re a mess, Washington. Need a ride home?” She jingled her keys in his face.

“If you don’t mind,” he said.

“Oh, I do. But this party blows, and I’m leaving anyway. C’mon, up you go.” She hoisted him to his feet easily. Damn, that girl had some upper body strength. When they were both standing, Josh noticed a pretty gnarly scar on Emily’s shoulder, peeking out from the strap of her dress.

“Hey, we match!” he said, pulling the collar of his shirt to the side to reveal the edge of his own shoulder scar. Emily raised her eyebrow. “Yours is a little more badass, though,” Josh conceded, following her to her car. “I mean, you fought off a monster. I just got stabbed with some scissors.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Emily said. “Ashley can be pretty monstrous.” Her tone was bitter, and Josh decided he didn’t want to know what she was referring to. They got into the car, Emily warning him not to get blood on her interior, and it wasn’t for a few minutes that Josh noticed they weren’t going to his house.

“Uh, Em? Where are you taking me?”

“My house. Gotta get you cleaned up before you go home, your parents would freak. They probably still will, but at least you won’t be dripping blood.” She pulled into the driveway of a very nice house. Josh had only been to Emily’s house a few times, but it looked exactly like the kind of place you’d expect someone like Emily to live. She ushered him out of the car, talking as she walked to the door. “My parents are both out on business, so don’t worry about them flipping their lids about your gruesome face.”

“That’s sweet, Em, thanks,” he said. He followed her into the house and she led him to the bathroom. The light made him wince, and he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Oof, he really _did_ look gruesome. Blood was all over his chin. His lip was swelling pretty bad, too. And both his eyes were blackened. Great, just great. “Man, my roguish good looks were the one thing I still had going for me,” he lamented.

“Then you never had anything going for you,” Emily said. Josh scowled at her in the mirror, and she yanked him none-too-gently over to the edge of the bathtub, where he sat. She knelt before him, frowning. While he’d been busy admiring his fucked-up face in the mirror, she’d prepared a damp washcloth and a first aid kit. “Here, take your shirt off,” she said.

He smirked. “Aww, Em, are you coming on to me? I always knew there was something between us.” He snickered at his joke for a moment while Emily glared icily at him, before he decided that he had enough black eyes for the time being, and he didn’t want to tempt Emily to give him another one. Without another word he pulled his shirt over his head. Emily handed him the washcloth to clean his face up while she examined his torso for damage.

He dabbed gingerly at his lip, watching Emily do her thing. She pressed two fingers rather hard against a particularly tender spot on his ribs, and he yelped, jerking away from her. “Hey, what gives?” he griped.

“You better hope that’s not broken,” she said. She rummaged in the first aid kit and handed him some ibuprofen. “Take that. I’ll get you an ice pack for your face. Then we’ll get you home.” She stood up, staring down at him for a moment and shaking her head. “I swear, Josh, you make everything so much harder for yourself than it needs to be.”

“It’s a talent,” he replied. She left to get the ice, and he sat in her bathroom pressing the washcloth to his mouth. When she returned, she was looking less irritated and more thoughtful.

“You were crying, back on the curb,” she said. “I’ve never seen you cry after a fight before.”

“Oh,” he said. He stared at the tile floor. “Um, yeah. I was just thinking about how I used to call Beth to pick me up after I got my ass handed to me. I even forgot for a second that I couldn’t do that anymore.” He laughed bitterly. “Crazy, huh?”

When he finally dragged his gaze away from the floor to look at her again, Emily’s eyes were sad. She sat next to him on the edge of the tub, handing him the ice pack. “Sometimes, I forget too,” she said. “It’s always with the most random things, too. I’ll see some stupid kitten video or something and think, ‘oh, I should show Hannah this, she’d love this shit,’ and then I remember.” She twisted her hands together in her lap. “I don’t think it’s ever going to feel real or normal or whatever.”

“Probably not,” Josh agreed. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She was pointedly not looking at him.

“Well, I should get you home, I’m exhausted,” she said, standing up. Neither of them said much on the drive to Josh’s house, but when she parked in front of his house, he turned to her.

“Thanks for patching me up,” he said. She tilted her head.

“Someone had to,” she said. A pause, and then: “Josh… I’m really sorry. About what happened to Hannah and Beth, and… well, everything, I guess.”

“Yeah. Me too, Em.” He offered her a sad smile, and she gave him one in return. Then he got out of her car and slipped back into his room, head throbbing and heart heavy with a mixture of sadness and something akin to healing.

 

* * *

 

Another thing Josh was scared of was talking about his feelings. He combatted this fear with numbness and shutting down and deflecting concern over his well-being with stupid jokes. What was it that stupid Disney song said, the one Hannah was obsessed with? “Don’t let them in, don’t let them see.” Josh kind of hated how much he could relate to a Disney princess. I mean really, if he was going to have something in common with one of them, couldn’t it at least be someone more kickass, like Mulan? Nope. Figures he’d relate most to the one who freezes people’s hearts and everyone thinks is a monster. But anyway.

Sam texted him and told him she’d talked to Chris, and now it was Josh’s turn. He held his cell phone in shaky hands, staring at Chris’s contact info. _Just push the fucking call button, dipshit._

He pressed the button and held the phone up to his ear. Maybe he’d be lucky and it would go straight to voicemail. Or maybe Chris would see who was calling and deny the call altogether. But no such luck. After a couple of rings, Chris’s voice was in Josh’s ear. “Hello?”

“Uh, hey Chris. It’s me. Um, Josh, that is. Josh Washington.” Holy shit, why was he babbling so much? Chris had caller ID. Everyone had caller ID. He didn’t need to explain himself.

“Yeah, I know,” Chris said. “What’s, uh, what’s going on?”

“Um…” All he had to do was say it. “Nothing, never mind, bye!” Josh said quickly, hanging up the phone. He flung it away from himself with a groan. Well, he’d tried, right? Somehow, he didn’t think Sam would see it that way.

Luckily for Josh, Chris was more than willing to pick up the slack. He found this out when an insistent knocking on his door while both his parents were out forced him to answer it himself, and it turned out to be Chris standing on the other side, holding up the extended edition of the Lord of the Rings movies. There was a look of fierce determination on his face.

“Um, what—?” Josh began, but Chris spoke over him.

“Listen, it’s time for our goddamn annual rewatch of the trilogy, dude, and I’m not leaving until you watch these fucking movies with me, okay?” Chris said. Josh held up his hands in surrender.

“Okay, dude, chill,” he said. He stepped back to let Chris in. Chris looked a bit sheepish now. When he really got a look at Josh, his eyebrows shot up.

“Holy shit, what happened to your face?” he said. Josh’s bruises had healed significantly since that night, but they still looked pretty brutal. He shrugged.

“You know me,” he said lamely. Chris just shook his head. They went into the living room, and the two of them sat awkwardly on the couch.

Josh started to say, “Listen, Chris, I need to —” at the same time that Chris began with “Josh, I’m really —” They both stopped, and Chris chuckled nervously.

“Uh, you first,” Josh said.

“No, no, you go,” Chris insisted. Josh sighed. Here goes nothing.

“Okay, um. I just need to tell you something. I know Sam told you everything, so you know that I’m… that I’m sorry. And I should’ve just said it to you that day you were here but I couldn’t do it because I wanted _you_ to be sorry, but now I don’t even care because whether or not you’re sorry doesn’t change anything, and I’m not really sure if you even have anything to be sorry _for_ , or if I just wanted someone to share the blame. But it’s all on me, bro. And I should’ve just said that from the get-go.” He felt like he’d said all of that in one long breath, and he inhaled deeply through his nose, the exhale coming out more like a sigh. Chris was quiet. “Your turn,” Josh said nervously.

“Gimme a second,” Chris said. He sniffled. What the hell? Was Chris crying? Oh Jesus. Not good. Josh had about ten seconds before the waterworks started on his end, so Chris better pull himself together. Finally, Chris looked at him and said, “So, first of all, it’s not _all_ on you. You gotta stop shouldering all the fucking blame, dude.”

“I’m trying,” Josh mumbled.

“I know.” Chris cleared his throat. “And I just want to tell you, I’m really sorry. For… well, for a lot of shit. For being so angry last time I saw you, and for just walking out of there and not coming back. For leaving you in the shed at Blackwood, and not being able to get to you before the, uh, wendigo did. And, um, I’m also sorry that I didn’t pick you. With the whole saw thing.”

Whoa, what? “Bro, it was rigged. It would’ve always gone to me.”

“No, yeah, I know that. But I mean, I still had the illusion of choice, and I could’ve picked you. And like… I dunno, man. I didn’t want Ashley to die, but… I should’ve picked you. You’ve been my best friend for more than half my life. We’ve been through everything together. As soon as I picked Ashley, I felt terrible. And I know that’s what you wanted me to do, but… I feel bad about it, man. I chose to kill you. I’m really, really sorry.” Chris let out a shuddery breath.

Josh was a bit baffled. “Chris… you don’t have to apologize for that, Jesus. I’m the one who put you in that position. That’s twisted shit, man, no one should have to make that kind of choice.”

“I guess,” Chris said. “But still. I feel like… you know, like I let you down.” He looked so freaking sad and vulnerable, all teary-eyed and damn it, Josh had missed his best friend.

“Can I please hug you?” Josh said. Chris didn’t respond, just grabbed Josh in a hug that made his sore ribs twinge painfully, but he didn’t even care. He pressed his face into Chris’s shoulder, and it felt familiar and safe and like home.

“I love you, man,” Chris mumbled. Josh let out a watery chuckle.

“I love you too, you sentimental piece of shit,” Josh said. They pulled back, and Josh patted Chris’s cheek fondly. “I’m glad you don’t hate me, dude.”

“Me too,” Chris said. “Glad I didn’t really saw you in half, too.”

Josh snorted. “You know what, same.”

And he meant it, too. Josh felt warm all over, and even the icy cavern in his chest felt like it was fading. Getting rid of the numbness and anger he’d used as a shield for so long meant that a whole slew of pain and grief would overcome him anew, but for now, it felt kind of good to let go. He’d clung so tightly to his rage, and now that it was gone he realized just how much it had been weighing him down. He still felt like he was missing the best parts of himself, but he had other people, other parts that were more than willing to fill in the gaps. He had friends who made sure he didn’t punish himself too harshly, and friends who patched him up when he inevitably did. He had parents who, despite all the trouble he caused, were still happy to have him alive. And he had a best friend whose idea of a reconciliation was forcing him to watch 682 minutes of Lord of the Rings.

He wasn’t better. He wasn’t even sure he’d say he was okay. But he had to start somewhere, and pressed close to Chris while dramatic music swelled from the TV in front of them, Josh thought this was a good enough place to start.

**Author's Note:**

> i apologize for lowkey dissing frozen


End file.
